Bussy remarked the conference, and, not doubting that they were talking of him, approached, with his friends.
“Look, Antragues, look, Ribeirac,” said he, “how they are grouped; it is quite touching; it might be Euryale and Nisus, Damon and Pythias, Castor and——. But where is Pollux?”
“Pollux is married, so that Castor is left alone.”
“What can they be doing?”
“I bet they are inventing some new starch.”
“No, gentlemen,” said Quelus, “we are talking of the chase.”
“Really, Signor Cupid,” said Bussy; “it is very cold for that. It will chap your skin.”
“Monsieur,” replied Maugiron, politely, “we have warm gloves, and doublets lined with fur.”
“Ah! that reassures me,” said Bussy; “do you go soon?”
“To-night, perhaps.”